More Than a Man. Rebecca York

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word, Olivia thought he was probably lying.

      Carlson stepped back. “I’m sorry,” he muttered.

      “Go back home to Baltimore and stay out of trouble.”

      “I will. Thanks for keeping me from doing something really stupid.” Carlson turned and hurried off, leaving Olivia trembling.

      “What just happened?” she asked.

      “A man was upset, and I made him realize that if he hurt me, he’d be going against his fundamental values.” Noah put a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry you had to get involved in that. Are you okay?”

      “I…” She couldn’t hold her voice steady.

      “Come here.” When he pulled her against his body and wrapped his arms around her, she leaned into him as he stroked his hands up and down her bare arms, feeling the goose bumps that had sprung up on her skin. “You’re shaking.”

      “I’ll be okay.” She was thinking that she’d just witnessed something extraordinary—with an extraordinary man, she silently added, as she closed her eyes and nestled against him.

      Twenty minutes ago she’d barely known Noah Fielding, but they’d just been through the fire together and that was a shortcut to intimacy.

      She was still trying to work her way through the terrifying experience. “He was mad as hell, but you talked him down. You’ve got a knack for reading people.”

      “Like I said, he was grieving. He just needed someone to point out that he has responsibilities back home.”

      “But you didn’t say that the accident in the sub was his brother’s fault.”

      Noah stiffened. “What makes you think it was?”

      “I saw the way you reacted. You were itching to tell him what really happened, but you didn’t.”

      He sighed. “What Eddie Carlson did isn’t important now. The fundamental point is that I provided the money that got three guys killed.”

      “You were taking your chances underwater with them.”

      His hand on her arm tightened. “I really did have an advantage over them.”

      “So it was true—about that special training.”

      “Why do you think it wasn’t?”

      “Something…”

      He looked around, as though he’d just realized they were standing in a public space, embracing and discussing a very private incident from his life.

      After a few seconds’ hesitation, he said, “Here’s an interesting choice. Do you want to come to my room—or get as far away from me as you can get?”

      “Why would I do that?”

      “This is the second time somebody’s attacked me in the past few days.”

      She caught her breath. “You’re kidding.”

      “I wish I were.”

      “Do you attract trouble?”

      He answered with a harsh laugh. “Not usually with such alarming regularity. I hope the planets aren’t in some horrible alignment.”

      “You believe in astrology?”

      “I’ve studied it. It’s interesting. A way for men—” He stopped and shook his head. “A way for people to make some sense of their lives before modern science offered better explanations.”

      “A lot of times, modern science wars with superstition. I still cringe when I break a mirror.”

      He laughed. “You and most other people. Because we’re still tied to our roots—to the prehistoric cave dwellers huddled around their fires, warding off the monsters in the darkness.”

      “Are you an anthropologist?”

      “No, it’s just another one of my hobbies.”

      She nodded, fascinated with him and at the same time thinking that walking away from him would be the smart thing to do. But she knew she wasn’t going to be smart. Not tonight.

      Instead, she walked with him to his room.

      It was actually a luxury suite with a plush living room, a well-stocked bar and a bedroom beyond.

      When he closed the door, she saw him let out a deep sigh, and she was pretty sure he was more shaken by his encounter with Mr. Carlson than he’d let on. As she looked at him, she wanted to make the hurt go away.

      Reaching around him, she snapped the security lock and set down her purse on the long table beside the door. The purse contained a cell phone she was supposed to use to call Pearson just by pressing a button. However, if she didn’t use it, he wouldn’t even know where she was.

      Yet her nerves were still jumping.

      Noah Fielding had held her just a few minutes earlier, but that had been outside after the attack. This was in his private suite, where everything was different. Intimate.

      Or had the feeling of intimacy come from the shared danger?

      He must have understood that she needed a little time to sort out her emotions because he walked to the entertainment unit at the side of the room, put the gun in a drawer and turned on an audio channel of soft, slow music.

      The sophisticated arrangement appealed to her. So did the man. When he turned, she gave him a small smile, then walked back into his arms.

      They were almost the same height, which made him the perfect dance partner for her.

      For just a moment, that made her sad. She would never dance again professionally because her leg no longer had the stamina. But she could dance for fun and she would get through her trouble and make her life over again.

      He didn’t pull her tightly against his body as he led her around the room in time to the music. His rhythm was flawless. He must be a natural dancer, she thought.

      They didn’t speak. She just let herself enjoy being with him. Enjoy his subtle scent. His firm touch. His masculinity.

      And enjoy the dancing. She hadn’t done it in a long time and she knew she’d have trouble with a complicated routine—even in ballroom dancing. But this was relaxed.

      By degrees, both of them moved closer together until finally he held her tightly against his body, pressing her breasts against his chest.

      Until then she’d felt a slow buildup of sensations. Now they gathered into a jolt of arousal.

      She hadn’t expected it. No, that was a lie. Noah Fielding was a very sexy man. She would have been surprised if she hadn’t reacted so strongly.

      With one of his large hands, he pushed back her hair and stroked his lips against her cheek, waiting for her to make the

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